Page 141 of Mistaken Intention

I suck in a breath, deciding to take a chance. “If you’re coming home with me, we’ve got time. We can talk later, or tomorrow… or whenever you’re ready. There are things that need saying…”

“Yes, there are.”

“But they don’t have to be said all at once… and not right now.”

She almost sags with relief, and while I don’t know whether to be pleased or disappointed by that, I console myself that at least she’s coming home.

For now.

She glances around, like she’s looking for a change of subject, and I can’t say I blame her. There’s too much tension. It needs breaking, and her eyes settle on the enormous wall-mounted television, which seems to have some kind of sound system beneath it.

“It seems you like your home entertainment,” she says, looking up at me.

“Yeah. I wonder what kind of music I listen to?”

“I don’t know. We never played any at the cottage.”

“No.” I wander over, feeling intrigued by my tastes, and flick on the sound system. There’s something already set up, and within a second, the room is filled with the sound of a piano playing… and then what seems to be a harp. At that precise moment, Josie bursts into loud tears behind me and I spin around, going straight to her, just as a man starts singing about the love of his life.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

I take her in my arms, and she sobs against me. “It doesn’t matter. You won’t remember it.”

“Remember what?”

She looks up at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. “This.”

“What? The music?”

“Yes.”

It obviously means a great deal to her, and I close my eyes, holding her close to me. “Who’s singing?” I ask, wondering if it will help.

“It’s Freddie Mercury.”

That means nothing, but as other voices join in, harmonizing with his, I get a shiver down my spine, and the briefest of images flashes through my head.

“A red dress,” I murmur, opening my eyes. Josie’s staring up at me, smiling through her tears.

“Yes. I was wearing a red dress.”

I clasp her cheeks in my hands, pushing my fingers back through her hair. “Was your hair shorter?”

“No. I was wearing it up.”

“That’s right.” I nod my head. “There’s nothing else. My mind’s a blank apart from that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m just glad you’ve remembered that much.”

“Was it our first meeting? Is that why the song matters?”

“Yes. It was playing at that party… the one I told you about.”

“I can’t remember anything except your red dress and your hair.”

“It’s enough.”

“Is it?”

---